


and the mirror will lie back

by whittler_of_words



Category: Hyper Light Drifter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Image Heavy, Tags TBA
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-11-29 14:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: New Topic in URGENT: Stray Dogs are NOT to be Trusted (hyperlightdriftxer)If you see a black stray dog, DO NOT APPROACH. You WILL get hurt. And probably fleas.This is NOT a joke. I’ll repeat for all of you with clogged ears, do not approach the black dog. It will try to trick you. Knowing everyone here, it will succeed. I can’t stress how important this is.Dont mess up.





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Something moves in the alleyway.

 

 

A phone skitters across cold concrete as it vibrates with an incoming call. No one picks it up. The silence that follows is choking, a stranglehold on every loose piece of trash suddenly too heavy to be pulled by a wind that carries the smell of salt.

There is no sea here. 

There is no sea.

There is _no_ dog.

Drifter shoves himself further behind the dumpster and tells himself this until he falls asleep.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“God damn it,” Alt says from the other room. She raises her voice to be heard through the door. “I liked it better when you were asleep!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, a huge thanks to wuffgod, caprice-and-reverie, and scrollingdown on tumblr! we came up with this au together and this wouldn't be possible without them ouo
> 
> [forum transcript](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1A07D5vZUMnQrDs4Y7aHE6Jh1Yb_saELR8LjvZ9wlIDI/edit?usp=sharing)


	3. Chapter 3

She doesn’t take his phone.

[I don’t really have an explanation.] Drifter’s text to speech fills the room like garbled smoke.

Instead, she just crosses her arms. Purses her lips. “Not good enough,” she says. “Cooper and I spent all night looking for you. Do I even need to tell you what we thought could’ve happened?”

[No.] Drifter pulls his scarf further over his head. [Sorry.]

“That’s a little better.” She holds her stance for a moment longer, hard lines and intimidation and fear - before sighing heavily and slouching against the door. Alt rubs her forehead. “But you know I’m not the only one who needs an apology. Coop’s taking you over to his house when he gets off work.”

The door closes behind her with the unsaid command to sleep. He doesn’t. Drifter has always been afraid of the water, and in those hours hidden in the alley, it was all he dreamed about. He’s not eager to go back to that.

He’s hours late. But he answers.

Perfect.

The replies are nearly instant. And considering Coop is supposed to be at work...

Drifter sinks into his blankets.

Drifter shuts off his phone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nuh,” Cooper says preemptively as he opens the door. “Drifter--”
> 
> But he is already raiding the fridge.

The ride to his brother’s apartment is tense and silent for reasons that have nothing to do with Drifter’s inability to speak. He does his best to ignore it, staring out the car window through the drive, and he slouches the entire walk from the parking lot to the steps of Cooper’s door. He glances around as the other fumbles with his keys, and is only slightly reassured when he finds no eyes waiting to meet his. 

“Nuh,” Cooper says preemptively as he opens the door. “Drifter--”

But he is already raiding the fridge.

“Okay,” Coop says, “well, at least make me something too while you’re at it.”

Coop sets his glasses on the counter as Drifter rummages. And then sets his head on the counter. He is very tired. Cooper would be willing to bet his brother is at least as exhausted, if not more, but he’d be a shitty twin if he didn’t recognize by now that Drifter staying still was more worrisome than him refusing to do so. 

The AC stutters on as Drifter turns and shuts the fridge behind him. He’s holding a sandwich -- two -- and holds one out. Coop takes it with a furrowed brow.

“Hey, quick question,” he starts. “Why are you allergic to using plates?”

Drifter locks eyes with him as he pulls down the surgical mask covering the lower half of his face and takes a bite.

He only gets halfway through before he can’t eat anymore. Which is really an accomplishment, if you think about it, and Drifter decides he’s just not going to worry about it at all. Coop, on the other hand, sets his own sandwich down when he sees that Drifter is finished, and there’s a moment where neither of them say anything.

“You know we need to talk,” Coop says. Drifter nods. “Now, or later?”

Drifter sweeps a hand forward, toward his brother. Coop had kind of figured. Not that it ever hurt to ask.

“You’ve been having the dreams again,” Cooper starts. Drifter immediately reaches for his phone.

[And you haven’t?]

“I didn’t say that.” 

Drifter narrows his eyes at the grim expression on Coop’s face. [You can’t tell me they’re just dreams when they scare you like that.]

“Of course not,” Coop says, “then they’re called nightmares,” and Drifter scoffs.

[You know what I mean, asshole.]

He does.

[I know what I’m talking about,] Drifter continues, eyes locked on his phone. [I know what I’ve seen. It’s the same dog.]

Cooper rubs his face. “I don’t think you’re lying.”

Drifter pauses. [But?]

“But you know this all sounds like nonsense to everyone else, right?” He looks up at Drifter, the bruises under his eyes emphasizing their unnatural color. “Drifter, Guardian found you behind a _dumpster_. Do you know what could’ve happened if someone else had found you first? Like, the police? I bet they wouldn’t even have to lie to arrest you on a drug charge.”

[My drugs are perfectly legal.]

Coop’s expression is flat. “Are they.”

[Just don’t tell them I’m cheating on them with other drugs.]

“You’re a clinical trial junkie,” Cooper says. “You have a problem.”

[Yeah, it’s the sickness that’s killing me,] Drifter replied. [Are we done?]

Coop throws a hand into the air. “Fuck it, sure, I guess. Go watch some History Channel or whatever.”

Turning, Drifter takes a ziploc bag from the cabinet against the wall and leaves the remains of his food in the fridge. Coop continues to eat, but when Drifter turns back, he thinks his heart doesn’t seem to be in it.

[I still want to apologize,] Drifter starts, and that gets his brother’s attention again. [I panicked last night. I wasn’t thinking, and I know I caused you and Alt and Guardian a lot of trouble. If I’d known I was going to hallucinate a weird murderdog I would’ve cancelled our plans ahead of time.]

The last part at least gets a snort out of him, and Cooper shakes his head. “Yeah, well. Just try not to make it a habit.”

Drifter knocks his shoulders with his on the way out of the kitchen, and it’s only when he’s out of the room that Coop starts to feel queasy himself. He puts his head in his hands to the sound of the TV clicking on in the living room. 

All he can hope is that, if Drifter continues to insist on looking for answers, he just doesn’t get close to the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

The buzzing of Drifter’s phone is what wakes him up the next morning. He turns over on the couch and paws at the table until he feels cool plastic in his hand, squinting at the screen.

He squints at the screen some more.

Drifter chokes on a wheeze that quickly catches in his throat and turns into an actual coughing fit. He turns his face into the cushions, muffling it as best he can, but noises from the kitchen tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about waking up his brother.

“You good?” Coop asks.

“Hh,” Drifter says, waving his hand over the side of the couch in a gesture that obviously means _yeah I’m doing great,_ and looks back to the conversation at hand, still coughing. Coop moves elsewhere in Drifter’s peripheral.

A clattering sound jerks Drifter’s attention away from the conversation. Coop isn’t in the room when he looks up, and it doesn’t take a genius to guess who’s responsible for the noise when coughing starts up from down the hall. Drifter sits up from his slouch.

_Brb,_ he sends as he gets to his feet, _something’s up._

The only light in the dim hallway is that which escapes the bathroom’s slightly open door. Drifter can hear the sink running now, and he raps his knuckles against the wall as he approaches, typing a message one-handed.

[Is it my turn to ask if you’re ok?] 

Drifter easily recognizes what comes next as a cough being muffled by a hand. As if the fact that he can hear what’s going on _slightly less_ will ease his concern when Coop doesn’t answer for several long seconds. Until, eventually, “Fine,” Cooper croaks, “just--”

More bottles, being knocked onto the tile. Drifter takes a step forward before he stops himself.

[If you’re dying, don’t, that’s my job.] 

Silence. There’s a prickling at the back of Drifter’s neck. It keeps him frozen in place, a half typed message left unsent as he stares, waiting, for -- for something. Nothing.

The bitter taste in his mouth is fear. It eats him up and leaves him to rot. Carves out his insides, again and again, until there’s nothing left. He’s left splattered on the pavement with crushed ribs and a broken skull. He’s choking on blood. Drowning in it. Dying. It’s dark and he’s all alone, dying, this isn’t right, this isn’t how it goes

There’s a snarl, and Drifter snaps out of it in time to feel hands wrap around his neck.


	6. Chapter 6




	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first sign that something is wrong isn’t the terrible headache, but the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the site that i was using for the text messages is Broken now, but that's ok, they were getting really clunky. so i decided to substitute them with something else instead!

The first sign that something is wrong isn’t the terrible headache, but the silence.

Cooper sits up. The nausea that roils his stomach distracts him enough that it takes him longer than it should’ve to realize he doesn’t remember lying down. His room is dark; the curtains over his windows are heavy, and only a small amount of the mid-afternoon sun slips through.

Something shifts in the corner of his vision.

_Absolutely not,_ he thinks. There’s a string of curses waiting on his tongue, but his mouth is too dry to even consider speaking, so he turns away from the dog looming over him and hunches over his phone.

He sends a text. There are several typos; his hands are shaking, and he finds he doesn’t really care.

_Wgere are yo uu. What hapened_

The murmuring from the other side of the door stops. Something Cooper hadn’t registered until it was gone, and the new depth of the silence choking the room makes him want to get up; walk around; leave; anything; but the eyes in the corner are telling him to stay. He doesn’t look away from the screen in his hands.

After several long moments:

_I was hoping you could tell me._

Coop gets the feeling he’s done something terrible.

Several minutes pass with nothing else from Drifter’s end. Of course he’s waiting for more. It’s only that Coop has nothing to offer except a wall of black glass between him and his memories from...however long ago. He looks at the timestamp on his phone. Two in the afternoon. The clock ticks closer to three, and Coop doesn’t miss that his first question has been left unanswered.

The doorknob turns. It’s not Drifter who’s behind it.

_What are you doing here?_ he wants to ask. But Guardian has a cup of water in their hands, and the way they hesitate before stepping further into the room is telling enough. They stop by the bedside, holding the glass out; Cooper takes it gratefully.

Guardian looks as sick as Coop feels, when he’s finished drinking.

WHAT? he asks.

That’s not his voice.

It’s not a voice at all, to be exact: like jacked up radio static projected right through his brain. Guardian’s too, if the way they flinch is anything to go by, and Coop barely hears it when he drops the cup, hands flying to his face.

To the space where his face _used_ to be. What the fuck.

He nearly falls off the bed getting off of it. There’s a mirror on the inside of his closet door, and he hears Guardian saying his name as he wrenches it open, but there’s no room in him to respond as he stares at what he sees.

He wants to break it. He wants to curse. He wants his brother, his sister.

_Is this your fault,_ he wants to ask. _Is this you getting your revenge?_

But Anubis is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> [forum transcript](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cDFLQLFoMC-UJjjNRk5o13cF6HVzv7rg-09SsfAxKtg/edit?usp=sharing)


End file.
